


One day I'll fly away

by Ga_Elle



Category: Dumbo (2019)
Genre: F/M, Language, Non-Consensual, Sexual Abuse, Smutty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-19
Updated: 2019-03-19
Packaged: 2019-11-24 16:47:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18167681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ga_Elle/pseuds/Ga_Elle
Summary: In my (twisted, wicked) mind, Colette is abused by her boss/boyfriend Vandevere. [Dumbo 2019]





	One day I'll fly away

**Author's Note:**

> English is not my first language, please forgive my mistakes. Note that at the time of writing, _of course_ , I hadn't seen Dumbo yet, so any inaccuracy it's because of that.
> 
> Anyhow, the story is set at some time before the movie.  
> 

Inspired by Nicole Kidman's _[One Day I'll Fly Away](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I8eNaVEEtC8)_   song from the Moulin Rouge.

__

She slipped into her robe, removing the sweaty leotard from her body. She felt spent, as always after training, and through better to enjoy those last minutes before the next show: she would be her turn in half an hour or so.

She didn’t bother to wear anything under her robe, preferring to let the sweat dry on her skin and the cold air soothing the heat still reverberating through her body, also she would wear her costume in a matter of minutes.

Colette breathed slowly, sitting on the padded stool in front of the dressing mirror surrounded by lightened bulbs and began stroking her own legs to soften her muscles and keeping them warm.

Outside, the crowd was cheering for something. Perhaps it was the acrobats or maybe the jumping dancers.

Usually, people would fall silent, with her, their mouths open in awe and their eyes shimmer with marvel.  
Or maybe they cheered for her too. She wouldn’t know. When she was up there, there was nothing but her, the world suddenly gone.

She couldn’t wait to climb up there, perform, and forget everything for fifteen minutes.

Colette lifted her head when she saw the curtain being tossed away, letting a glimpse of the crowd appear to her hungry eyes; it was a relaxing vision, which had nothing to do with the man who emerged from it, slipping inside her dressing room with a languid walk.

“They’re waiting for you.” He grinned, resting both of his hand above his cane.

Colette tightened her jaw. She didn’t like when he entered her dressing room right before a show, even less when he presented himself with that wicked grin painted on his lips. She always knew what he wanted, but every time she forced herself to push that dreadful thought in the back of her mind.

Their relationship was merely a facade: he liked to take her around like a trophy and his chest bloated when someone complimented him about the beauty of his girlfriend.  
He liked to own her, but nothing more than that.  
Vandevere liked to call her his girlfriend in public when in reality she was just a toy.

“You’re making me a millionaire!” He almost laughed, spreading his arms.

Colette almost suppressed a snort. It was all it mattered, for him.

He didn’t care if he had to abuse animals, make the acrobats jump higher and higher regardless of their broken bones or snapped necks, build dangerous rides and fast slides – all he cared was the money. Luckily for her, her performance was already risky enough as it was, with her flying around without any sort of safety net or cables that would prevent a mortal fall.

“You are already a millionaire.” She replied, sighing as she switched to the other leg.

“Think bigger, Colette.” He continued, walking closer to her with sparkling eyes and a wide grin. “I could own the greatest amusement park in the world.”

Colette didn’t raise her eyes to answer, but she just nodded her consent.

“Of course you could.” She said without emotion. Vandevere was a powerful man, a dictator for the ones around him, who could have everything he wanted. Money was his weapon.

“But not without you.” He said then, his voice hoarse.

Colette lifted her head to see him hovering on top of her, looking down with a demanding stare.

She knew what he wanted – _oh_ , she knew. But usually, he would wait after the show.

She stood up, feeling somewhat more confident on her feet rather than seated. She was shorter than him in both situations, of course, but on her feet, she could flee from him more easily.

Colette knew this was not how a normal couple would behave and she should not feel repulsed by her own boyfriend, but she couldn’t help the disturbing sensation.

She pretended to fetch her red wig, brushing the fake hair with her fingers; her body grew stiff, suddenly, when she felt his callous hand gripping her shoulder. Colette could feel his revolting breath crashing against the exposed skin of her neck.

“Not now.” She whispered timidly, trying to get him away in the most polite way possible. Making him angry, mostly with depriving him of something, was not at all advisable. “I’ve got to go out soon.”

Through the reflection on the mirror, she could see his face crumpling up into a disappointed expression, then, his nails dug into her skin painfully.

“You’re my primal attraction, therefore you’re my property.” He retorted with a low grumble, making her spin rather effortlessly. “You don't get to decide when or how I get what I want.” She growled through his clenched teeth.

The edge of the narrow table below the mirror was digging painfully on the small of her back as he pressed hardly his body against her own.

Colette did her best to not recoil at the sensation of his arousal pressed against her upper leg and rather stubbornly she turned her head to the side.

Vandevere’s eyes dropped on her cleavage, which glimmered with tiny drops of alluring sweat. Her robe was fastened around her slender body, but it was clear that she was wearing nothing underneath it, because of the dark pit in the middle of her breasts. He could see her smooth skin moving rhythmically under her erratic breaths.

“Yes.” She whispered dimly; when his nails dug again into her skin, she gasped surprised, hurriedly correcting herself. “Yes, boss.”

Colette heard his cane drop to the ground and his free hand clasping the hem of her robe, his harsh fingers started to group the fabric within his fist and she winced.  
Usually, she would welcome the fresh air on her skin, but not like this.

“You’ve always been so ungrateful.” He murmured ad his head dropped on her shoulder. “I could never break you.”

Colette swallowed and shut her eyes closed when she felt his tongue brushing hungrily against her neck. So that was her guilt, then: not being lenient like the others. It wasn’t fair.

Vandevere lifted his head and looked right into her eyes. Finding that they were closed, enraged him.

“Would you prefer to go back into the filthy pit I found you in? Let that pig take you again?” He whispered angrily into her ear, shaking her slightly until she opened her eyes back.

Colette timidly shook her head, dreadful memories of her first circus making her shiver from head to toe. She had been grateful when Vandevere had bought her from her previous owner, just to find out that she had fallen from a frying pan into another.  
She had to admit that Vandevere was unequivocally more pleasant than that fat monster that would run his sticky hands on her body every night. Still, was it really a fantasy wishing to have a normal life as a performer? Without selling her body out just to have a roof above her head and food on her table?

She stared at him quite fiercely, blood boiling within her veins.

“I would prefer to live a decent life and earn a living respectably.” She snapped.

Vandevere stared back, his eyes shimmering even more. He liked when she replied with pride, only so he could bend her harder and better.

His rough fingers slipped under her robe and on the back of her thigh, he found the roundness of her firm bottom and smiled viciously when he realized her skin was damp with sweat even there.

She suddenly felt ashamed for not wearing anything underneath, but he didn’t seem to mind, on the contrary, he seemed to enjoy her bare, heated skin under his pads.

“Everything comes with a fee in this life, Colette. Especially freedom.” He grunted, pulling his face close to hers. He crashed on her lips, kissing her forcefully to urge her to open her mouth and let his tongue slip inside.

Colette struggled to restrain herself. She could feel his arousal, his hunger, and yet she could not fight him, or else there would be consequences.

Vandevere grunted and gave a hard squeeze on her flesh, making her whimper and jolt slightly forward. He assaulted her mouth with his own as soon as her lips parted and his hand moved on the nape of her neck to keep her steady as he explored her mouth with his grody tongue.

She could taste the sour and the saltiness of her own sweat as he probed the roof of her mouth and suckled hard on her lower lip until it hurt.

No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t bring herself to kiss him back with the same lust and passion. She knew that her reticence was making him even more angry and aggressive, but her body felt detached from her mind.

“You’re giving me a hard time.” He grunted against her lips when he let her mouth free, then his head fell again onto her shoulder.

Colette shut her eyes closed when she felt his greedy hand knead ravenously the flesh of her buttocks and then his middle fingers slipped easily in her cleft, probing at her intimate bits.

She tried to ignore the pricking ache of his teeth scraping her neck, and put all her efforts to steady herself and let him explore what he desired without complaints.  
Giving him a hard time would not mean good at all. The last time she slightly refused he hit her hard with his cane and her back was stiff for a whole week, making her every performance an excruciating experience.

Normally, during the day, he could be satisfied with that: her bending to his will, letting him do whatever he wanted with her body, touching and kissing and knead on her flesh and making her whimper and leave her without breath. He would take her during the night, in the privacy of his trailer as always – but today wasn’t the day.

Colette’s eyes grew wide when he trailed down to kiss the exposed skin of her chest, down as long as the robe let him, while his hand continued to explore her most inner bits with a sort of famished rage.

“Stop it.” She whined, putting his hand above his broad chest, trying to push him slightly away. She knew it wasn’t the best move from her, but she had to try: she would have to go on stage soon.

Vandevere raised his head to her level and clenched his jaw. His grey eyes quivered with rage.

“Don’t screw with me, girl.” He warned and the hand that once rested on the back of her neck to keep her steady as he kissed her, moved to the front, gripping her throat.

His fingers squeezed hard, cutting the flow of air in her lungs.

Colette gasped for air, her body spasming against his. Even if she indeed had air, she knew she couldn’t scream: nobody would hear her and the punishment would be cruel.

He let her go after a solid minute, depriving her of breathing, still, by kissing her deeply. Hot tears started to prickle the corner of her eyes as she tried to squirm away in every way she could.

When he finally freed her, Colette had to grasp the edge of the table to prevent falling on her knees. She was panting restlessly and Vandevere stared at her with lusty eyes as her chest rose and fell rather violently, making her breasts bounce every time.

“I always get what I want.” He reminded her sternly and let her go completely to grab his cane for a moment. “I shall have it now and you _will_ like it.”

Colette was still recovering and was too lost to register his actions, so she could prepare herself, neither mentally nor physically, when the cane her hit her square in the stomach, making her double over and collapse to the ground.

He tossed the cane away and in one, swift movement, he was above her, pushing her body to the ground as she blinked in pain and confusion.

Vandevere wasted no time to take care of his own pants, unclasping the button and freeing his cock from the cloth’s constriction.

Colette took a sharp breath when the pain finally lessened and tried to fight dimly from her disadvantaged position, but soon she had to give up, because he was too strong and because, sadly, she knew it was no use.

The hard concrete was hurting her head and she could sense few straws of hay getting caught between her hair. The floor smelled bad, it was dusty and filthy and she wished, just for a moment, to be in his trailer rather than on the ground of her dressing room; the outcome, of course, wouldn’t be different.

She tried to shut herself down when his hand searched for the end of her robe, once again, pulling it up to her waist. Colette watched his face lighting up in marvel when his eyes focused on the bare half of her body.

“You little slut.” He commented with a husky voice.

Colette felt her cheeks grow red. He knew she had nothing under her robe, he’d already touched her naked skin of her thighs and behind, but still, he had to make that comment just to make her feel ashamed of herself.

Vandevere massaged her muscular legs and thighs with his rough hands and she wasn’t surprised when his strokes revealed to be gentle and somewhat cherishing.

Pitiful as it was, she knew he loved her, somehow. He loved her in his sick, possessive way, because she brought him money and because she made him look good in front of people.

When he felt he could no longer wait, he squeezed the tensed flesh of her legs and urged them apart.

Colette yielded, trying to relax her body as he accommodated himself atop of her.

She could feel the length of his shaft pressing and grinding against her inner thigh and suddenly she desperately realized that she was far from ready to accept him.

Unfortunately, she didn’t have a lot of time to fix her problem, trying perhaps to get some pleasure from his hash ministrations, because a burning sensation to her most intimate place made her aware that he had already aligned to her entrance, ready to take what was his.

When he first thrust into her, she had to bit down her lip not to scream. She tasted blood on her tongue and focused on the irony taste rather than to the ache she felt in her most sensitive parts.

Vandevere let out a low growl when he accommodated completely inside her, the welcoming heat engulfing him completely despite the dryness of her walls. He didn’t really care if she was enjoying it or not, as long as he had what he wanted.

He didn’t let her adjust before thrusting into her once more, his pants dropping to his knees as the fabric yielded to the gravity.

Colette gasped silently as she spread her legs further, trying to compensate for her unreadiness with more space for him so that, maybe, he hurt her less.

He moaned her name as his face dropped on her chest, lips kissing and nibbling at the flushed skin; no longer satisfied with the little flesh exposed, he unfastened the robe and pushed it away, revealing her perfectly rounded breasts wiggling as she trembled viciously. Vandevere hungrily savored her reddened flesh, teasing one nipple between his fingers and suckling the other hard until it peaked against his twirling tongue.

Colette closed her eyes, swallowing as she focused on his ministration on her upper body; she had to feel some sort of pleasure, or else that encounter would turn out disastrous for her. She swallowed, rocking slightly her pelvis under his weight, embracing the friction that created between their skins.

“That’s it.” He moaned against her flushed skin, biting on the soft flesh of her breast.

Colette let out a small whimper from her lips and arched a little her back when a familiar heat started to pool at the pit of her stomach. Eager to feel some relief where he had intruded her body, she clasped her legs around his waist and gently eased him out of her a little, only to return in the previous position shortly after.

It was better, she decided and locked her ankles just above his hips.

When Vandevere thrust again into her, they both moaned at the new, more pleasant sensation. He buried himself completely into her inviting wetness; with each push, he went further and deeper.

Colette had her eyes shut close. She still felt the burning sensation at her offended entrance, but the process was, at least, more acceptable. She clawed his back, nails digging into his shoulders as he moved brutally into her.

She tried to find the right peace so she could meet his rough dance, but she found it quite impossible, for his movements were halted and irregular.

“You’re such a sweet little thing, Colette.” He grunted, his voice fading into a cracked moan. “Mine and mine alone.” He said, making sure that each word he pronounced would match a hard thrust into her.

With that, he finally spoke what she felt: nothing more than an object, an attraction that provided him money and fame, with the only difference that only he could take direct amusement from her body. A toy for his own pleasure.

Colette felt him throbbing within her, his muscles tensing above her as his breaths became uneven against her chest. She always hated the smells from his body, from his heavy breath to the acrid scent of his sweat, which reminded her of their numerous encounters since he bought her for his circus. He was like an animal when he took her, but she didn’t find that alluring at all.

She just wished to be done quickly, by now. She forced her mind to think about her show, her faithful ring up in the air, her body light as a feather as she floated free and alone.

Colette did everything she could to shut herself off, yet her back arched on its own at some point and he slipped further inside her, teasing the sensitive nerves buried deep within her womb.

She couldn’t prevent the low moan coming from the back of her throat and, at that sound, he started to move even more forcefully above her.

Colette had no choice but to focus on herself, seeking to release the dull ache that had build in her body. There was no harm, at that point, to get herself some satisfaction, so she didn’t restrain her movements when her hips started to buckle to meet his vicious thrusts.

She could feel he was close by his small, erratic moans and his frantic pushes. And despite her conflicted feelings, she knew she was close too. Maybe she was indeed a bad person because she tried to get pleasure from that deplorable situation, or maybe it was her right, to seek for the better in the worst occasions.

Vandevere bit hard on her flushed breast, not caring to leave an angry mark nor to cause her pain. Her distressing cry spurred him to give her even more of him.

He slipped one arm behind her, gripping the back of her neck with one hand, while the other slithered on her back. He clutched hard, deaf to her whines of pain due to his fingers digging into her flesh, and rolled both of them so they could switch position.

Colette suddenly found herself straddling him, her body slumping spent above him as she looked down at him in confusion. Her head spun and she had to hold herself up by placing her hands above his chest to steady herself.

Vandevere grinned hungrily as his callous hands went to her waist, feeling powerful as he still impaled her with his cock deeply buried and engulfed by her hot folds.

“Ride me, you little slut.” He grunted, buckling his hips underneath, urging her.

She had no other option if not oblige him.

Colette groaned helplessly when one of his hand shifted on her buttocks and further down into her cleft, rubbing his middle finger along her slit to where they join.

She let out a moan, her knees squeezing his hips as she started to rub herself against him, minding solely on her own peak, well knowing that it could only mean bring him over the edge with her.

Vandevere jolted forward to meet her as soon as he felt her muscles spasming around him, his cock throbbing and pulsing harder to reach the sought release. He pushed up and let out a low moan when he felt some of her wetness reeking down his thigh.

He urged for more with one hand still on her hip, while the other, slick with her nectar, moved to her front and he cupped one of her breasts, his eyes almost crossing as he stared at the other, which was bouncing invitingly with each thrust he gave.

When he pinched the erected nipple, which was glistening after he'd coaxed her hot flesh with her own juice, Colette whimpered slightly, rocking strongly her pelvis as her own arousal build from deep within her. Her body started to hump his on its own accord, every bit of her eager to reach the ultimate pleasure.

Her muscles tensed once again and she felt the length of his cock being engulfed by the soft parts of her insides. She tried her best not to make a sound as waves of pleasure hit her from the core to her limbs, shaking violently her body as she climaxed.

She was still riding her peak off when Vandevere’s body jolted forward, spilling inside her as he found his release too.

Colette tried not to recoil as she felt the warm material filling her womb and dripping out of her, the sticky moisture of their juices combined cascading from her and smearing on his crotch.

She felt completely spent, both physically and emotionally and couldn’t bring herself to return his kiss when he bent up to meet her lips with his own, tugging contently her luscious lips as they both tried to catch up with their breaths.

When he decided it was enough, he eased his soft cock out and unceremoniously pushed her aside. He used part of her robe to wipe himself and proceeded to pull up his trousers.

“Come in my trailer tonight.” He panted as he stood up rather unsteadily. Colette knew it was an order she couldn’t fight. “I will take more of you.” He anticipated, his voice demanding. “Now get dress and put out your best show.” He ordered, looking himself into the mirror. He grinned wickedly as he discretely smelled his hand before brushing his hair with his fingers.

Colette imagined he was proud to have her scent there. It was a reminder for both of them that she belonged to him.

Grabbing his cane with a swift motion, he mockingly took a bow to bid his goodbyes.

She could hear his giggles as he left her dressing room, but maybe she was just imagining things because the cheers of the crowd were so loud that they were like a drill into her brain.

She felt sore and took the unused part of the robe to clean herself too. She rested her hand for a moment, massaging her private parts, hoping to lessen the dull ache in preparation of the performance. She swallowed and steadied her breaths as she rubbed down her tender flesh, biting the inside of her cheek when she realized it was no use. She would have to pretend it was all fine, confine the pain somewhere hidden in the back of her mind.

Colette removed the filthy robe, leaving it on the floor behind her. The cool air was soothing against her heated skin and for a moment she felt the unbearable urge to bath herself and scrub her skin until it bled; she wanted all off, every little particle of her body that had touched his, erased.

Of course, it was impossible. Colette felt dirty and he hurt her that she could do nothing about her condition: she would remain dirty, alongside a man who loved her in a disturbed way. She was nothing, as things stood.

She dragged herself to the closest stool and stared a couple of minute at the reflection the mirror was giving back; for a moment, she didn’t recognize herself. She studied the angry reddish bruise that had started to appear across her stomach, but shook the thought off because she would wear her costume; perhaps it would be harder for her to keep some positions for long. But for now, it wasn’t a problem.

She got dressed and put on her make-up.

She practiced a broad smile for a few seconds in front of the mirror. When she was satisfied with her look, she exhaled slowly.

Colette took a sharp breath right after, broken and halted sighs as the lump in her throat threatened to make her bust in tears. But she was strong, she was a professional.

She put on her wig and checked her dress, then, she turned to her faithful trapeze, feeling the urge of being up there, flying alone, relying solely on herself.

Colette closed her eyes for a moment before walking to the ladder, climbing it rapidly so she could sit on her iron ring. She pushed herself so she could sway and, maybe for the first time in a long time, she looked down, at the safety net beneath her, which she used solely for training.

She wondered what was it like to actually fly without a trapeze, to actually take wing without worrying about crashing to the ground.

What was it like to float in the air, weightless and free?

One day… one day, perhaps, she would fly away, and leave all that behind.


End file.
